


A Night on the Town

by randomrosewrites



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Cannibalism, F/M, Fluff, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Other, alastor is charming, im bad at tagging, its not that bad its just implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomrosewrites/pseuds/randomrosewrites
Summary: Local Radio show host Alastor invites you for a night out during the great depression.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111





	A Night on the Town

**Author's Note:**

> tw  
> Alcohol mention  
> smoking mention  
> implied cannibalism 
> 
> it's Alastor, yall.  
> See endnotes for slang terms
> 
> The world of Hazbin Hotel and its characters belong to Vivziepop.

You could tell who had walked in from the second his dress shoes hit the floor of your cafe.

It was a quaint thing, located on the corner of the main street. The owner was kind enough to provide you a job during this economic rut. You knew too many people who had to turn to...other forms of work to make ends meet (or less). You were grateful to at least have some form of money coming in. 

A table of chattering women instantly turned their heads towards the man who walked in. They looked back at forth from one another, whispering behind their cupped hands. The man greeted some of the other patrons warmly, saying something which provoked a hearty laugh from the common folk. On his way to his usual table, he slipped a sly greeting towards the ladies, gathered like pigeons, who snapped to attention instantly. His eyes were closed in a smile as he walked away, the table giggling nonsensically. He took his seat by the window and opened a folded-up newspaper from the inside of his waistcoat.

The radio host seemed to attract attention no matter where he went. Either from the dames frolicking over him or the men who were eager to chat him up. Alastor wasn’t wealthy to say the slightest, but he was well off, and gave others the impression that he was of high class. Wealth attracted people like moths to a flame. 

  
“Afternoon, Alastor,” You said, pen and paper at the ready despite knowing you wouldn’t need it. “Will it be the usual?”

Alastor’s eyes sparkled in recognition, acting as if he hadn’t noticed you. “Ah,” he said your name. “No, actually. I’m not here for the treats nor the coffee.” 

Well naturally he wouldn’t, you knew he had a distasted for the pastries. (Which didn’t make much sense as to why he came to a patisserie of all places, you might add) Though he usually grabbed a mug of the bitter liquid in the afternoon. You had a feeling he never got much sleep, but that never seemed to bother him. 

“Oh?” You knew he was leading up to something. But being the performer he was, he always had to make a show of every word. So you took the bait. 

He re-folded the newspaper, crossing one leg over the other before turning his body to face you.    
  
“You see, as you know I work at the station across town. It’s a mostly stationary job and there isn’t much time for me to get up and stretch. Now I’m a rather tall fellow,” He gestured at himself. “Thus I naturally get achy and cramped being tied to my desk. Not that I’m complaining! Oh, no. I am quite content with my occupation.” 

You could tell from the way he talks and sounds on the radio and in person, he was practically made to be an entertainer. 

“The only opportunity I have to be active is when I am not speaking to all of New Orleans. Typically I retire to my household, as I am not much for the antics on Dauphine street or likewise.” 

That was putting it lightly. Dauphine street was home to many nightclubs and bars. The air reeked of eroticism and the 'dancers' were dressed more in the powder on their body rather than their glittering fringe. Places like those were for the unwashed, unsightly folk, certainly not Alastor. 

“Alastor,” you gently nudged in. “I’m enjoying this conversation, but I’m on the clock right now.”

  
His eyes scanned over to the table of ladies, who were all watching with a hawk-like intensity. They turned away the second he made eye contact. Right, he needed to speed things up.

“My point is, I haven’t gone out in a while. I don’t suppose you have either, all things considered.”

  
“I have not, why do you ask?”

He stood up now, pressing down the front of his attire and dusting his pants. Standing at his full height he towered over you, eyes gazing at you with such piercing intensity that you shivered. He placed one hand on your shoulder, His long fingers touched the bare skin that was exposed by your uniform. He leaned forward, breath fanning over your cheek.

“My dear, would you give me the honor to treat you to a night on the town?”

It took your mind a few seconds to process his request. When you returned to reality, you fumbled your words.

  
“Uh, I...yes, that would be- uh- lovely. Tonight, then?” 

He chuckled as he pulled away from you, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. 

“Let’s say…. Tonight at nine? I’ll meet you on the corner of Bourbon Street.” 

“Yes, I...I’ll see you then.” you murmured, feeling the warmth radiating off of your face. 

With a curt nod, he left the cafe, leaving you to simmer in your own thoughts until the chime of the bell told you to move on with your orders. You could hardly wait until your shift was over, an electric feeling of anticipation buzzing in your stomach well after your shift was over. 

\----

Bourbon street was the place to be during the great depression. There was always music playing, regardless of the time. Many bars and other strip-joints were scattered around the avenue. It provided an escape from the unsatisfactory realities of the world.

True to his word, Alastor was standing on the corner of the street, pocket watch in hand. He had swapped his Burgandy waistcoat for a maroon three-piece suit, garnering looks from some passerbys. His eyes lit up when he saw you, snapping the watch shut and stuffing it in his pocket.

“You look positively charming.” He flattered, extending his arm for you to hang onto. 

“Thank you, so do you.” You had gone for something stylish but not too fancy. Though you didn’t have much of a choice as your wardrobe selection was small enough. “What’s with that?” you gestured to the icebox in his other hand. 

“Ah, that,” he only winked, a grin pulling at the side of his cheeks in an-almost smirk. “A Suprise.” 

You hummed in response, letting him lead you past the popular clubs into the side-streets. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, watching as the streets darkened and became less refined.

“A special place m’dear.” He stopped beside a beaten down wooden door. There was no light illuminating the building. If Alastor hadn’t stopped, you would have missed the door entirely. A flicker of worry weaved it’s way into your stomach as he rapped on the door, but you dismissed it. 

The door opened a crack, light from the inside casting a yellow hue over the tall man guarding the entrance. He stared at you, narrowing his eyes. Upon seeing Alastor he opened the door fully, letting you two enter.

“Pleasure seeing you again, Hubert!” Alastor chirped. “Would you take this to the back and tell your friends I’d like this rare- oh, darling- how do you take your meat?” 

  
“Well done.” You said, clinging tightly to Alastor’s arm. 

“Well done it is!” He handed the cooler off to Hubert before leading you into the main area of the club. 

It was quite snazzy despite its outer appearance. A canary sung a soft soothing song from the stage as the various patrons chattered at their tables. Smoke wisps curled in the air, as glasses of sparkling liquid were poured and downed in crystal glasses. 

Alastor lead you over to the bar, where a slightly ruffled man stood, polishing a glass. 

“Husker! How do you do?” Alastor sang, voice coated with faux acclaim. 

‘Husker’ froze for the entirety of 5 seconds before turning and scowling at the man by your side. He forced a sigh before tossing the towel over his shoulder. “What’ll it be this time.” He grumbled.

“A glass of, ahem, giggle juice, if you’d please.” His voice dropped an octave as he leaned on the side of the bar. “My dear, would you like a soda or…” he tilted his head towards Husker who was preparing what you assumed wasn’t just cider.

“Isn’t this....illegal?” you started slowly. There was probation against alcohol, you had never tasted the substance in your life.

“Only semi-illegal.” Alastor hummed, thrumming his fingers against the wood. “Aren’t you curious as to how it tastes?” 

You couldn’t disagree with him there. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. If you’re offering.” 

He smiled in approval, snapping his fingers at Husk who gave him two tall glasses of a golden liquid. Alastor handed one glass to you before placing his free hand on your back and guiding you to a table near the back of the club. He helped to seat you before taking his own seat. 

“This is one of my favorite places to go to when I have the chance.” He took a sip from his drink, with no hesitation. “The atmosphere is just lovely.”

It was a nice place, surely expensive and under-the-radar judging from the alcohol. Looking around you noticed that the crowd was composed of different ethnicities, an unusual sight indeed. 

“How did you find out about this place?” you asked, taking a wry sip of your drink. It was bitter and made your lips pucker. Why would people purposely drink this?

Alastor seemed amused by your discomfort. “Ahh, you know a lot of people in my profession. You make connections and just stumble across some gems.” 

You felt like that last part was a bit of an exaggeration, but you let it slide. You were just happy to spend this time with Alastor. You didn’t think this was a date, no, it wasn’t enough to be called that. Despite whatever feelings you may have had, this was more of an outing between close companions. And that was fine with you, whatever he would give to you, you’d take. 

You settled your glass down on the table, taking the moment to admire Alastor. His hair was swept back cleanly from his face and the light reflected off his sharp jaw. As he talked his crossed hands would wave and curl according to his words. It mesmerized you.  _ He  _ mesmerized you.

The vocals and tunes rocked you into a state of calm as you relaxed parts of your body you didn’t realize you were holding tense. As the two of you talked and drank, you felt a fuzzy feeling heating you from the inside out. Drinking came easier and was desired more of your own volition the more you did it. 

After some time a waiter exited from the kitchen in a puff of steam. He held two trays in his hands, expertly swerving past tables before coming to you and Alastor. 

“The dish for the monsieur and his dame.” The waiter revealed two perfectly cooked slabs of meat with rice and vegetables. It looked like steak but surely not, there weren’t possibly enough cows for that. It wasn’t seafood either judging from the rougher and darker appearance. Per request, Alastor’s was practically still bleeding while yours was crisp and dripping with fat.

“What’s this? You asked, cutting off a slice and inspecting it under the light. “Did you go hunting for this?”

Alastor was now watching you with immense intensity. His elbows rested on the table as he rested his chin atop his intertwined fingers. “A little something I caught and wanted to share. Please, after you.” 

His eyes watched as you took your first bite, his smile remained on his face as always, though there was something to his expression that you couldn’t quite read. Like he knew something you didn’t.

Almost like he was in pleasure. 

“Well,” you said, taking a moment to savor the flavors. “It tastes good. Delicious.”

Alastor leaned back in his seat (You hadn’t realized he’d been leaning forwards). “That’s marvelous.” 

“So what is it? It tastes too fatty to be venison or alligator…” You mused, taking another bite. “Some kind of boar or pig?”

Alastor began eating his own meal, eyes closed in bliss. “You have quite an expansive palette, Darling.” 

You shrugged. “It’s more from memory, I don’t get much variety nowadays.”

“What a shame.” He murmured, eyes glassy as he stared at his fork, gaze fixed on the liquids that dripped onto his plate before popping it in his mouth. 

Soon enough he snapped back to his chipper persona, the normal conversation continued as usual for the rest of the night.

\---

It had been past midnight when the two of you exited the club. You had two or three drinks of ‘giggle juice’ in that time span, which left you with a slight sway in your step. Had it not been for Alastor’s arm that you clung to, you’d have a hard time walking at all. You rolled the mint Alastor gave you from his Alitoid tin between your molars. It helped mask the stench of liquor from your mouth and was fun to play with.

The drinks and food had left you feeling warm, even overheated despite the cool air of New Orleans. In a stupor, you nuzzled your head into Alastor’s sleeve as the man rambled on about some topic. He paused only momentarily before patting your head and continuing.

As you neared your house and the small fence that surrounded it, you pulled away to unlock and open the gate. Alastor helped you up the steps of your house, being patient when you giggled at your own lack of coordination. When you couldn’t get the keys for your house in properly, Alastor took pity and unlocked it for you. 

  
“Be sure to drink water and take an aspirin before going to bed.” He teased, pinching your cheek. As if he was caring for a child.

“Mmhm. How come you’re so...so...good?” you asked, holding into the door for its temperature and stability. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” he chuckled. There was a stretch of silence where if he was going to kiss you, it would have been then. You stood, waiting to see what he would do. Either way, you weren’t going to be disappointed, you were just curious to see what the man who was so inexperienced with affection would do.

Eventually, Alastor cleared his throat, fixing his bolo tie and straightening out his jacket.

“Well then, until the next time,” he clasped your hand gently with his own, bending low to plant a chaste kiss on your knuckles before spinning on his heel and leaving.

You watched him disappear from your sight, still standing there for a minute after he left.

Ah, so that’s what he’d done.

A gust of cold wind reminded you to close the door. You leaned against the back of it, letting your mind wander and relax in the silence of your home. What a night.

A howling caused you to jump. Ah, those dogs again. They had been causing a ruckus for the past few weeks. You frowned. You hoped Alastor wouldn’t be bothered by them on his way home. 

Ah well, you’re sure he’d be alright.

Yawning, you latched the door before making your way to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Slang terms:  
> Canary- Female singer  
> Giggle juice- A code word for 'alcohol' during the probation period
> 
> I did some research before writing this. Facinating stuff, sorry if I got some things wrong.  
> "A night on the town in 1930s New Orleans" was an article I read to kinda get a feel for things
> 
> As always criticism/ comments are always welcome!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
